Cheap Red Wine
by kgenezk
Summary: 8-year-old Harry decides he's had enough and runs away to live in the  slums of London. Six years later, he makes a reappearance. AU, HP/GW and RW/HG  eventually.
1. In Which Harry Grows a Pair

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Harry Potter, blah blah blah; I don't own the label, "Cheap Red Wine"…and all that jazz.

**A/N**: So one night inspiration hit me like a lightening bolt, and I had this bright idea – what if I were to write a story while completely snockered? Of course, that plan sort of backfired, because I tend to want to do other things than write while I'm drunk…however, I decided to keep the original title (I had planned on drinking brand label "Cheap Red Wine" while writing) and concept (which was to write either a silly story with serious moments, or a serious story with silly moments…). Anyway, when all's said and done, don't take this too seriously; but please enjoy!

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><p><strong>Cheap Red Wine<strong>

**Chapter 1: In Which Harry Grows a Pair**

It was a dark and stormy night when the door to Number 4, Privet Drive opened, and a bespectacled young boy stepped out, carrying nothing but a very small knapsack. The wind whipped his already messy hair, as he began making his way down the street. Soon enough, the manicured lawns of Privet Drive gave way to more questionable places of residence. The rain created rivulets on his glasses, effectively blinding him for the most part.

_Wonderful. Of course I had to pick the absolutely worst time to leave, _he thought. _Can my night really get any worse?_

As usually occurs when one tempts fate, his night did in fact take a turn for the worse. The rain turned to hail; small at first, but soon coming down in golf ball-sized chunks.

"Shit!" the boy exclaimed, cursing his bad luck as a particularly large piece hit him squarely in the head.

He ran for the nearest shelter, holding his poor knapsack above him in a fruitless attempt to save himself more bruises. Making it to an overhang between two slummy-looking buildings, he crouched down glumly. This was quite possibly the worst night he had experienced in his eight short years.

The hail showed no sign or stopping nor of slowing down any time soon, and the boy knew the deafening roar of the wind and the lightening clashing every few minutes would make it impossible to sleep, so he resigned himself to restless night.

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><p>While Harry Potter was watching the hail and rain, a man named Albus Dumbledore was slowly peeling the wrapper off a lemon drop inside his office at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Just as he was about to place said lemon drop in his mouth, full intending to savor the flavor to the fullest, green flames roared up in his fireplace and an elderly woman stepped out just in time to see Professor Dumbledore seemingly throw a lemon drop straight at her face. Upon instinctively opening her mouth to scream, the lemon drop flew right in and lodged itself in her throat.<p>

"Ack!" she yelped before being cut off from her air supply. Dumbledore leapt up and whipped out his wand.

"Accio lemon drop!"

The lemon drop forcefully dislodged itself from Professor McGonagall's throat and zoomed into Dumbledore's outstretched hand. He peered at it, shrugged, and popped it in his own mouth. He then glared at Professor McGonagall who was currently wincing and rubbing her throat, and, speaking around the candy, asked, "My dear Professor, whatever did you mean by barging unannounced into my office? Do you realize you interrupted a very private moment for me?"

Professor McGonagall's eyes widened and she spluttered for a moment, unsure of which way to take the last statement before deciding she had a right to be indignant, whatever the course of intent.

"I-what-oh, I interrupted you! You nearly killed me! With a lemon drop no less! I've told you it's utterly absurd to keep those silly things in your office!"

"Oh do calm down Minerva. You were never in any danger. I'm quite handy with a wand, you know," Dumbledore interrupted smoothly, his eyes twinkling.

"…"

Taking advantage of her momentary silence, he pressed on, "Now what was it you wanted so badly?"

Forgetting her ire, she jumped, remembering what had brought her to floo straight to Dumbledore's office in the first place. "Oh Albus! It's the Potter boy – he's gone!"

Dumbledore's eyes stopped twinkling immediately. "What do you mean, gone? Where has he gone?"

"I don't know! I was doing my annual check-up on the house, and at first I thought he was just somewhere inside, after all it _is_ raining rather badly, so of course he wouldn't be outside-"

"Minerva!"

"Right, of course. Anyway, I managed to sneak inside the house, and I searched everywhere Albus! Even in the most unlikely of places, like the cupboard under the stairs! He wasn't anywhere! And I'm certain he ran away because I went straight to Arabella's when I couldn't find him at his aunt and uncle's, and she said could have sworn she saw a young boy running down the street, but thought her eyes must have been playing tricks on her."

Dumbledore frowned and sat down at his desk. Placing his fingertips together, he peered over at McGonagall and asked, "How long ago did you realize this?"

"I've only just come from Arabella's."

"Very well. Gather the Order immediately – everyone must be notified. The sooner we find him, the better. And for now, do not under any circumstances let this get out. There are many people who would love to finish what Voldemort started that night."

McGonagall nodded sharply and swiftly left the office. Dumbledore sighed and looked out the window. _Where are you, Harry Potter?_

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><p>Voices clamored, each drowning out the other, fighting to be heard. Dumbledore sat at the head of the table, watching as his Order members argued like school children.<p>

"We need to inform the Ministry!"

"Are you insane! Not only is the Ministry completely useless, but if the Ministry knows, the Daily Prophet knows, and once the Prophet knows, everyone knows! That'll only put Harry in more danger!"

"Why don't we just forget the brat, and no one's the wiser?"

"That poor boy! Out on his own, he must be so frightened!"

"Oy! Who moved my pot?"

Silence greeted this last remark. Mundungus looked around before shrugging defensively. "What? I like cooking."

"Enough," Dumbledore said sternly. "We will have to alert the Ministry −", he put a hand up to stop the foreseen protests, "unfortunately, we have done all we can. It's been over a week, yet we still have no leads. To keep it a secret any longer would only invite more trouble when it does eventually come out. Who knows – perhaps they can help? Or at the very least, make the populace aware."

There was an immediate round of protests before Dumbledore cut them off again, "We _will_ inform the Ministry. No, Mr. Canterbury, not another word. Meeting adjourned."

He nodded once, turned and disappeared, presumably to the Ministry of Magic.

The next day, headlines came out:

**The Boy-Who-Lived Missing**

_Harry Potter, the boy who defeated You-Know-Who seven years ago was reported to be missing as of nine days ago by Professor Albus Dumbledore. Professor Dumbledore, who was responsible for the placing of young Mr. Potter, has refused comment. On Saturday, Mr. Potter apparently left his home of Number 4, Privet Drive in Little Whinging, Surrey, and never returned. Though there have been allegations of a possible kidnapping, it would appear as though this is another case of a runaway child. This begs the question, what sort of home life was our hero leading to have been driven to run away? _

_The wizarding world is asked to help look for Mr. Harry Potter. Help us bring our hero home!_

_Story by Steve Carell  
><em>_[Below is a photograph of Harry Potter at the age of 1]_

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><p><strong>AN**: I know this first chapter is pretty short, but it's really just setting up the story. Reviews are always welcome!

Check out Carbon Leaf – it's a great band!

**Happy Cinco de Mayo!**

(I've just decided this is one of the best underappreciated holidays ever.)


	2. Harry Looks Into a Pub

**Disclaimer:** J.K. Rowling was kind enough to write a fantastic story and provide us with characters to...play around with.

**A/N**: Enjoy, and props to whoever can tell me (without cheating!) where I got the names for all the boys…actually no props, you should just be ashamed of yourself if you _don't_ know. But just in case, I'll save that disclaimer for next chapter!

P.S. Legit props to whoever can tell me where I got the title for this chapter and can predict next chapter's title!

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><p><strong>Cheap Red Wine<strong>

**Chapter 2: Harry Looks Into a Pub**

The streets of London were packed with passers by, each going about his or her business. School was getting ready to start back, and most children were with their families, doing some last-minute shopping. Harry Potter was not most children.

"Hey, watch it!" a man in a business suit exclaimed as a young boy darted around him.

The boy turned around and jogged backwards for a bit. "Sorry!" he yelled.

The man could see his green eyes sparkling mischievously, even behind the glasses the boy wore. The man shook his head and returned his attention to the street vendor. "Crazy lunatic teenagers, always thinking they own the streets…I'm sorry, how much do I owe you?"

The vendor simply raised his eyebrows and replied, "Sixteen forty-five."

Still mumbling about the deranged youths of today, the man fished in his pocket for his wallet. He frowned and dug a little deeper...maybe he'd put it in his other pocket. The vender was getting impatient, tapping his fingertips against the counter. The man gave a nervous chuckle, "Heh, it's here somewhere."

Now shoving both hands in their respective pockets, the man was frantically trying to convince himself he would find his wallet.

"Dig a little deeper and I'm sure you'll find _something,_" the street vendor said with a smirk.

Finally admitting to the nagging suspicion that had been creeping its way through his rather dull mind, the man gave a frustrated yell, "THAT DAMN BOY!"

Harry grinned, hearing the shout in the distance. Glancing behind him, he slowed to a walk and, with a spring in his step, he fingered the soft leather of the wallet currently resting in his pocket. It was becoming too easy. What had started out as a means of survival had transformed into a fun hobby. When he first discovered the use he could put his naturally nimble fingers to, he had worked tirelessly to perfect his skill. Now, it was like taking clothes from a whore…or something like that.

Hearing footsteps thundering behind him, he deftly stepped to the side. A young boy, about 7 years old, flew through the air where he had been standing and landed in a heap on the ground. Groaning, he lifted his mop of brown hair and glared up at Harry with narrowed eyes.

"I'm gonna get you one of these days, I swear it!"

Harry laughed, "Ollie, I've told you – you'll never catch me off guard if you insist on galloping down the streets like an ox!"

"Ollie the Ox," came a taunting voice. Soon after, two boys sauntered out of the shadowy alley and headed towards Harry and Ollie, who was by this time picking himself up off the ground. The taller one nudged the other, "Ha-ha, look at him! I toldja, didn't I? Didn't I tell ya he'd flop?"

The two boys hooted with laughter. Ollie gave a shout and wildly rushed at the boy, fists flying. The taller, obviously much older boy simply held his hand out and placed it on Ollie's head, holding him at arm's distance. Undeterred, Ollie kept swinging his fists, shouting "C'mon then, I'll take ya! We'll see who's left standing when I'm through with ya!"

Harry shook his head wearily. "Alright, Ollie lay off. We all know you're going to take us all down one day when you finally grow."

"_If _you ever grow," the boy muttered.

The two newcomers snorted with laughter as Ollie's face got red. Harry glared the taller one. "And you, Jack. Must you antagonize him?"

"Sorry Harry, but I can't help it," Jack replied earnestly. "He's just so little, see? And he knows we don't mean no harm…right, Roger?"

Roger nodded, "Right, no harm meant. Honest, Harry."

Harry just rolled his eyes. "Whatever, you'll get what's coming to you one day. Let's go."

They set off, Jack and Roger in the lead still chuckling. Behind them, Harry glanced down at Ollie's slumped shoulders and downcast face. He sighed and gently flicked him with his fingertips.

"Here, why don't you carry the loot for me, eh?" he asked, holding out his bag.

Ollie jerked his face up and within two seconds was proudly strutting towards Jack and Roger, swinging the bag around, purposefully trying to hit them with it.

Harry laughed quietly to himself. Though they were constantly bickering and picking on each other, Harry knew they had a loyalty to one another that ran deeper than any blood ties.

He sighed, thinking about how their little group had formed. About a year after he left his aunt's and uncle's, he had met another runaway by the name of Ralph. A rather excitable boy, he had proven himself to be quite skilled at playing dice and though his and Harry's first meeting ended with Harry losing all his money, they immediately took a liking to each other. Already an experienced pickpocket at this point, Harry made an offer: Harry would pick pockets, Roger would play dice and they would split the loot. Harry had already discovered an old abandoned warehouse on the ouskirts of the city, so they stayed there and, together, they made a pretty decent living, even managing to start a savings jar that they kept well hidden. Over the years that followed, they started bringing in other runaways and currently had six other boys living with them. Harry, their unspoken leader, made sure they all contributed in some way or another.

He and Ralph were primarily the breadwinners; they kept their coffers full and as a result, almost always had food to fill their stomachs. On occasion, one or the other of them would bring back some sort of entertainment. One Christmas, Ralph had come home lugging an old record played that they then fixed up. Harry had once brought a stack of books, but he and Simon were the only two who even looked at them, let alone read them.

Simon, the next oldest at 14, was the medical expert and go-to guy of the group. He made sure they had sufficient medical supplies, and when he wasn't occupied with gathering them, spent much of his time in the public library learning as much as he possibly could. As a result, whenever one of the boys needed something fixed, or had any sort of question, Simon was always the one they went to.

Jack and Roger, at 13, made it their own personal goal to have as much fun as possible, even at the expense of others. Harry had caught himself trying to pick a job that would go well with their personalities, but had recently started questioning whether putting them in charge of redoing the warehouse was a good idea - they tended to create hidden booby traps that even Harry had a hard time spotting...he still had a bruise on his shoulder from their last expose.

Sam and Eric were twins, 12 years old, and had sworn an oath to be dirtier each day than they were the day before...or at least that was what Harry suspected. Ironically, Harry put them on wash duty, hoping that perhaps a little of the water would get on the two boys. However, Sam and Eric had become professionals at thoroughly washing clothes while keeping themselves as dirt-caked as ever.

Piggy was 9, and was considered to be completely useless by the majority of the boys. Completely as a loss of what to do with him, Harry had put him on "guard duty". Though they didn't actually _need_ a lookout, Piggy took his job quite seriously, patrolling up and down in front of the warehouse entrance for hours on end, unaware that many of the boys were sneaking through a rear entrance that Jack and Roger had created for just that purpose.

Ollie was the youngest at 7, but was quite possibly the fiercest. Convinced he was one day going to become a "super-ninja", he was constantly trying to catch Harry off guard, but seemed unable to grasp the concept of moving quietly. He looked inconspicuous enough, but had a temper that would flare up at the smallest slight towards his ability. Harry had taken a liking to the young boy, and had offered to train him as the next pickpocket. However, after the first (and only, Harry swore) disastrous attempt had ended with quite suddenly, consisting of a fat opera singer, a swarm of police men, and a creative use of a very large mud puddle, Harry had demoted Ollie to staying at the warehouse and told him to repeat the mantra, "When I attempt to steal, I will NOT leap in front of my target, yell _heeyah!_, and then proceed to karate chop them". So far, he was unsuccessful.

Coming out of his reverie, Harry saw they had arrived at the warehouse. Ollie skipped up to Piggy, "Hey, look what _I_ got to carry! Harry let _me_ carry the loot!"

Piggy just frowned and responded with a very deadbeat, "Password?"

Ollie ignored him and did a little jig.

"Password?"

Just then, Roger reached over and snatched Piggy's glasses, put them upside down on his own face and proceeded to walk around with his arms held in front of him like a zombie, "Password, password, password, that's all I do all day", he said in a whiny voice.

He then started snorting like a pig while Jack bent over laughing and pointed at Piggy who was currently squinting and saying, "Stop Roger! No, really, I can't see!"

"C'mon, Ollie," Harry said, rolling his eyes yet again. Sometimes he felt that was all he did these days. "Let's leave these idiots to their games."

He and Ollie went inside, feeling the relief of the shade from the hot day. Ralph glanced up as they walked towards the back. "Oh good, you're back."

His eyes shifted to the front where Jack and Roger were still taunting Piggy, and he shook his head ruefully. "I swear, sometimes I think taking them in was a bad idea."

Harry laughed humorlessly. "Tell me about it. Ollie?"

Harry held his hand out and Ollie regretfully put the bag in it. "Cheer up; why don't you go find SamnEric and see what they're up to, eh?"

Ollie brightened; he had adored Sam and Eric since they had found him hiding underneath a gutter one night. With nary a word, he took off. Harry overturned the loot bag, wallets and jewelry tumbling out. As he and Ralph sat down to sort it through, Harry asked, "So I noticed some noobs over on the corner of Gambol and Ace earlier. I was thinking maybe we could head up tomorrow morning; see if they're there again. They'd be pretty easy money."

Ralph nodded his head. "Sure, I think the Huntington folks are getting irritated with me anyhow…I was thinking of changing venues to get 'em off my back."

They finished the rest of the sorting in silence and Harry stood up. "Take that to the jar, and I'll stick this in the outbox."

The outbox was where they put all the things that had to pawned off. Harry was sure to go to a different place each time and to not frequent one pawn shop too often. He had just closed the lid when Simon walked in, nose in a book.

"You'd better step in out there," he said absent-mindedly, gesturing over his shoulder. "Piggy's about to have a conniption fit...and he has a stick."

Harry sighed and went outside to break up the scuffle.

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><p>That night, he sat outside, back against the wall, and looked towards the city lights, thinking. Footsteps sounded nearby and he looked up to see Ralph come outside and sit next to him. Both boys were silent for a moment before Harry spoke up.<p>

"What are we doing, Ralph?"

Ralph cocked his head and looked at him. "How do you mean?"

Harry sighed, "I mean, what the fuck are we doing? Yeah, we try and read up on our own at the library sometimes, but it's not enough to ever really learn anything. Simon's probably the only one who gets anything out of it, and that's just because he spends all his time reading. Sometimes, I want to do something other than steal to get by, living day to day, hoping at the end of it, you'll have enough to eat. And the others…Simon for sure could make something of himself. If he could go to school, he'd be a doctor no doubt. He's sharp enough…what if we're screwing over their lives? Maybe we should have taken them to an orphanage instead of trying to teach them they can survive on their own...that they _should_ survive on their own."

"But we _are_ surviving. We're doing just fine. And you said it yourself – Simon's smart as a whip. If he wants to leave, he knows he can."

"But don't you ever feel like there's something more out there?" Harry asked, gesturing to the darkness around them. "Something we're missing?"

"Not particularly. We're living the dream, Harry. No school, no responsibility, all the birds we want," Ralph said. Harry frowned. "Yeah I know, you're not into that…look, just spit it out mate. What's really bothering you?"

Harry hesitated before answering, "It's my...thing. How is that I can do those things?"

Ralph sighed, having had this conversation multiple times before. "Look, so you have a gift. Maybe there is some greater something out there, but why d'you have to find it? Why can't you just say thank-you and move on?"

Ralph didn't get it. Ever since he could remember, he had made things happen. Once, while running from the police, he had somehow ended up one alley over without knowing how he had gotten there. Another time, he and Ralph had been cornered by a gang of older boys and Harry was sure they were going to have their faces pummeled, but every time one of them tried to throw a punch, their feet would fly out from under them. Finally, they became convinced Harry and Ralph were demons, and ran down the street shoving each other out of the way. That was the first time Ralph had seen anything like that, and after Harry explained that that sort of thing occurred often, he convinced Harry to see if he could control it. After three longs years of hard work, Harry was finally able to make things move without touching them, take away people's voices, and appear and disappear at will.

He shook his head, "No, that's not it. I mean, what if there are others like me? I can't be the only one, can I?"

"...I dunno. I s'pose it's possible." Ralph looked disconcerted. "But hey, mate…you're not gonna take off are you? We're in this together, yeah?"

"Of course." Harry smiled tightly, and returned his gaze to the night around them. "In it together."

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><p>Harry and Ralph hid behind the corner of a building together, and peered around.<p>

"There, you see them?" Harry asked quietly, pointing to a group of older men in mangy coats in an alleyway across the street.

"Yeah, I see 'em," Ralph muttered. "Alright then, here's the plan…"

Three minutes later, Ralph and Harry strolled around the corner towards the alley with the dice-players. Just as they were crossing over, a girl came running past, almost knocking Harry to the ground

"Sorry," she yelled without turning around.

The girl couldn't have been taller than Roger or Jack, and had the reddest hair Harry had ever seen. He stood transfixed as it flew out behind her as she ran towards three other redheads standing next to a grimy-looking pub entrance.

"Fred, George, wait for me! Ron, hang on, I'm coming!"

"Harry…Harry!" Ralph hissed, looking back at him. "What the fuck are you doing?"

Harry jerked around. "Huh?" he asked, trying to remember what he was supposed to be doing. "Oh. Nothing, just…where d'you think they're going? I've never noticed that place before."

"What? Who?"

Harry pointed at the group now entering the pub. "Them. Those redheads; they just went in that pub."

Ralph followed his finger before looking back at Harry. "What the fuck, Harry? What redheads? What pub?"

Harry blinked. Surely he had seen them – how could he have _not_. They were only about as obvious as an elephant in the road. "_That_ pub. The one right there, I'm pointing at it. It's right between the jewelry store and the pawn shop."

Ralph gave him a funny look. "Mate, there _is_ no store between the jeweler's and the pawn shop…are you alright? You're acting right barmy."

Harry looked back at the pub to make sure it was still there. It was. "You really can't see it?"

"No mate. I really can't see it. Maybe we should just forget this…come back tomorrow." Ralph started turning away, looking uneasy. When Harry stayed where he was, he turned back around. "You coming?"

Harry hesitated. Maybe…just maybe...

"No…I'm going to check this out."

Ralph frowned and opened his mouth.

Harry quickly said, "Look, I just want to check it. I'll be back tonight, alright? No worries mate."

He clapped Ralph on the shoulder and left him standing there on the sidewalk.

"You'd better be back!" Ralph yelled after him.

Harry turned, gave a salute, and disappeared through the doorway.

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><p><strong>AN**: Wow, I can't believe I actually updated…I don't know that I've ever updated a story before. Be proud of me :)

Advice of the Day: Don't drink. Ever.


	3. What He Found There

**Disclaimer:** You know the drill. I don't own Harry Potter, I don't own Lord of the Flies…I don't even own The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe ;)

**A/N: **Sorry it took me so long – I've been out of town and have been unable to update. Hopefully it won't take me this long for the Chapter 4!

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><p><strong>Cheap Red Wine<strong>

**Chapter 3: What He Found There**

The door creaked as Harry slowly ventured into the pub. The first thought that crossed his mind was, _What the fuck?_ Everywhere he looked were people in robes, people waving around wooden sticks, and even people that didn't really look like people at all. There was a hooded fellow in the corner who lifted a pipe, the smoke tendrils curling around the low wooden beams; a group of older, rather hard-looking men sat at a round table near the edge of the room, each grasping a steaming mug and conversing in low whispers. Suddenly there was a burst of green flames to his left. He started and whipped around in time to see a young boy step into the odd green fire, yell something indistinguishable, and get whirled away. Harry blinked. Surely that had not just happened. He shook his head, as though to shake the image from his mind and headed towards the bar.

"Excuse me. You didn't happen to see a couple of people with really red hair come by just now, did you?" he asked the barman. The man grinned in response, revealing several missing teeth.

"You mean the Weaselys? Yeah, yeah they went on out to Diagon Alley."

Harry had no clue what Diagon Alley was, but the man obviously expected him to, so he thanked him and headed for the back door, where the man was pointing. When he came out though, he stopped, confused. Had he made a mistake? Was there another door somewhere? He went back inside and looked around a bit. No, there was the door where he had come in, there was the door leading to a private sitting room, and the one that went upstairs – he could see them down the hall. His was the only door left. He glanced out once more, just in case. Same as before, all he saw was a trash can, some littered paper on the ground, and a blank brick wall. Perhaps he had to climb over the wall…no that was stupid; why would they make people jump a wall just to get to this place? Just as he was about to go back inside and ask the barman for better directions, a boy with blond hair and a sneer on his face shoved past him. Harry was knocked into the doorframe, and he was about to tell the moron just what he thought of him, but the words died in his mouth. The boy had taken out one of those sticks that everyone seemed to have and tapped one of the bricks with it. Then, as Harry watched, completely flabbergasted, a hole appeared and grew larger and larger until an archway had formed. The rude boy strolled through as though this sort of thing happened every day. Harry just stood there, shocked at what he had seen, but then scurried to follow as the hole began to close again. Once he was through, he turned and glanced behind him. The wall was solid once more.

_Shit. How am I going to get out?_ He fretted for a moment before shrugging it off. _Guess I'll figure something out._

The minute he turned his attention back to what was in front of him, all thoughts of leaving disappeared. Shops lined the street, but as Harry walked on, he saw they weren't normal shops. There was an apothecary; a Quidditch store (_That sounds like a rather dumb name…wonder what it is?_); a bookstore called Flourish & Blots; and so many more. There were mostly families everywhere he looked, people rushing past, muttering things like, "…a new set of scales, _another_ pewter cauldron – can't _believe_ she melted her old one…" and "….have to make a run by Madam Malkin's, his robes are way too short, then go to Ollivander's, my wand's been malfunctioning ever since that floo accident…".

Harry distinctly heard one little boy grasp his mother's hand whine to her, "But muuum, I want to get a broomstick!" As they disappeared around the corner, Harry could have sworn he heard her say, "Mark, what did I tell you? You can't fly until you're potty trained!"

Though the streets were packed, everyone seemed to be in a rush, darting this way and that; it was as though they wanted to be out on the streets as briefly as possible. He was walking aimlessly down the cobblestone path when he saw the redheaded girl come out of a shop. She was immediately followed by the three boys she was with earlier, two redheaded adults who assumed were their parents, and a black boy…perhaps he was adopted.

Harry strode up to them quickly until he was right behind them, close enough to hear what they were saying.

"Where else do we need to go? We got Ginny's books, Fred's scales..."

"The Quidditch store! Let's go in there, I heard they just got Viktor Krum's old broom in and they put it on display! He even signed the handle!"

The woman frowned, looking worried. "I don't know, Ron, I think if we have everything, perhaps we should just go back to the Leaky Cauldron."

"Aw mum, let him go. He really wants to look at Krum's broomstick – who are you to judge your own son?" one of the boys said. His twin guffawed behind him as Ron tried to throw a punch his way.

"Boys, really!" their mother scolded. "Ron, stop trying to kill your brother. Now come on, we'll take a look at this b-broomstick," she turned red as she stumbled over the word, "and then we're going straight back!" She suddenly got nervous again, all embarrassment forgotten. "After last month, I don't like being out for too long…"

Harry followed them back to the Quidditch store and watched as they all drooled over this apparently famous broomstick before their mother ushered them off. As they were approaching the Leaky Cauldron, Harry realized they would soon be gone and he wouldn't be able to follow them anymore. He noticed the girl lagging behind a bit, so he trotted up to her.

"Er, hi, excuse me?" He stumbled a little. The girl looked over at him.

"Yes?"

"Er yeah, where are we?"

"Pardon?" her eyebrows climbed into her hairline as she answered.

"What I mean is – what is this place?"

She frowned. "It's Diagon Alley…" she said slowly.

"Yes, but I mean…all of this," Harry gestured around him. "It's not normal. How is it possible?"

"Ginny! Who is that you're talking to?" the woman had stopped and was looking back at them warily.

"Dunno!" Ginny called before looking back at Harry, "You're a muggleborn, aren't you?"

"Er – a what?"

Ginny's expression relaxed and she smiled kindly. "What I mean is, your parents can't do magic. How did you get here, are you with them?" She looked around for people who could possibly be Harry's parents.

"Ginny!" Her mother had come back to them and was now standing there formidably with her hands on her hips. She turned to Harry, "What is your name, young man?"

"Harry, ma'am. I'm sorry, I was just asking her –"

"He's a muggleborn, mum. He doesn't know anything about magic," Ginny interjected.

The woman frowned. "Then how did you get here?"

Harry looked at her nervously. "I er, followed someone here from London."

"You followed someone?"

Harry nodded.

"Ginny, he's not muggleborn, he _is _a muggle! Arthur!" She turned around to her husband, "Arthur, we need to tell the ministry - he's a muggle." She was now whispering to Arthur, glancing back at Harry now and again.

Ron, the twins, and the black boy came up as well and were looking between him and their parents.

"What's a muggle?" Harry asked Ginny.

"If you are one, then I'm actually not supposed to tell you…but I guess it won't hurt much – you've already seen Diagon Alley, after all. It means you can't do magic." She explained, looking a little worried.

"But -" Harry was cut off by her father.

"Let's move this conversation inside, please," he said, looking up and down the street. He quickly ushered them into the Leaky Cauldron and walked up to the bar.

"Tom, can we have the private room?"

"Of course, Arthur, of course. Come come, this way," the barman showed them into the next room and left, closing the door behind him.

They all took seats around the long table, an awkward moment arising when Harry moved to sit next to Ginny only to be stopped by a glare from her mother. Instead, he sat between Ron and one of the twins.

"I supposed first thing's first," Arthur said once they had all been seated. "I'm Arthur Weasley and this is my wife Molly. Those are my sons Ron, George and Fred, Ron's friend Dean and my daughter Ginny" They waved as their respective names were called.

Harry nodded at them. "I'm Harry."

"Very nice to meet you Harry," Mr. Weasely said. "Now, from the beginning - how did you get here?"

"I followed someone. I was standing on the street, I saw someone come in here, and since I had never seen this place, I pointed it out to my mate who was with me but he said he couldn't see it. Naturally, I was interested, so I came in. Why? What's the big deal?" Harry asked. He was starting to get a little irritated at all the hype that was being made.

Mr. Weasley heaved a sigh. "First off, I supposed I should say there's such thing as magic. I'm sure you've already made that conclusion, but I just want to get it out there. Secondly, we have a Ministry of Magic, and there's a statute of secrecy in effect that prohibits us, wizards, from telling non-magic folk, muggles, about magic."

"But sir, I _can_ do magic." A stunned silence greeted this revelation. "Or at least, I think that's what it is."

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley exchanged glances. "But son, if you could do magic, you would have gotten a letter inviting you to our school, Hogwarts. I'm assuming you never received one?"

Harry frowned. "Well…no."

"Dear, where are your parents?' Mrs. Weasley asked.

"I er, I don't have any. They died when I was little."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Mrs. Weasley said sympathetically. "Who do you live with then?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "Erm, I live with some other boys…on the outskirts of the city."

"You mean, in an orphanage?" Mrs. Weasley was starting to get where this was headed, and she didn't like it one bit.

"Well…no, by ourselves. We have a warehouse that we bunk in."

"Oh you poor dear!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed. "Arthur – Arthur, we have to do something, the poor thing's out on his own!"

"No, really. Mrs. Weasley, its fine. Really, we actually quite enjoy it. Honest." Harry tried to reassure her, and though she calmed down somewhat, she still looked upset.

Mr. Weasley looked rather upset himself, but continued. "Well, that would explain how you didn't get a letter…what sort of things can you do, that you think might be magic?"

Harry shrugged. "All sorts. Most of them I don't mean to do, but I can make things move without touching them when I want."

Mr. Weasley nodded. "Show me."

Harry looked around before settling on Ginny's headband. He reached out for it and it zoomed into his hand. She jumped a little, startled, before smiling at him. Grinning, he leaned across the table and handed it back to her.

Mr. Weasley rocked back in his chair.

"Impressive. Harry, if you don't mind, would you meet someone for me? He's the Headmaster at Hogwarts and I think you would enjoy speaking with him."

"Sure, why not?"

"Splendid. For now, why don't you get to know the rest? I think you'll enjoy speaking with Dean in particular. If you'll excuse me, I need to have a quick word with Molly."

He and Mrs. Weasley got up, and left the room.

There was a moment of silence as no one knew quite what to say to each other. Then,

"Say Harry, that was pretty wicked." Fred said, looking impressed.

"What was?"

"The wandless, nonverbal summoning charm!" Ron exclaimed. "I can't even do nonverbal spells yet, much less without a wand."

"You all realize I have no clue what you're talking about, right?" Harry said. _Wandless, nonverbal spells?_

"Ah, shit that's right, you don't know anything about his world." Ron said.

"Well what you like to know Harry?" Ginny asked, placing her elbows on the table. Harry had been avoiding looking at her, but now let his eyes snap to her face, glad for the excuse.

"Erm…" he mentally shook himself. "Honestly, I don't really know what to ask first. I just found out this whole other world exists; there's a _Ministry_ of Magic, a school where you learn spells…what else is there?"

The black boy, Dean grinned and spoke up for the first time. "I know what you mean. I'm a muggleborn, so I didn't know about magic or anything either until I was eleven and got my Hogwarts letter. Just wait though, it's brilliant! There are spells for just about everything, there are dragons and mermaids and all sorts of other things, there's goblins –that probably shocked me the most. I went into Gringotts, the wizard bank, and this goblins came up to me, asking what he can do for me, polite as can be. About jumped out of my pants, I was so shocked."

Harry listened, hardly able to believe it. "You're pulling my leg; there's no way."

He laughed, "No mate, I'm not having you on, swear!"

"Though, speaking of pulling your leg, you need to watch these two," Ginny jerked a thumb at the twins who immediately put on their most innocent faces. "Just never eat anything they give you, never trust anything they do for you, and always check your back before leaving a room that they've been in."

Harry chuckled, "That bad, eh?"

"Oh you have no idea," Ron said. "This one time…"

For the next hour, they regaled Harry with tales of their times at Hogwarts and the wonders of the wizarding world. He felt completely at ease with them, laughing so hard they were crying and acting as though they'd all know each other for years. Every now and then, he would sneak glances at Ginny watching as her smile lit up her face. She caught him a few times, but didn't seem to mind.

As it turned out, Dean was visiting the Weasleys for the last week of summer and they were out in Diagon Alley doing some last-minute school shopping. Fred and George would be entering their seventh and final year at Hogwarts, Ron and Dean were going into fifth and, according to them, hardest year due to the O.W.L. exams that they had to take, and Ginny would be a fourth year. They told Harry that if he would also be a fifth year if he had gotten his letter when he was supposed to. More and more, he found himself wishing that was the case.

When Mr. and Mrs. Weasley returned, they found the teenagers bent over in their chairs laughing at some story told by Fred and George. Harry wiped his eyes as he looked up. Mr. Weasley smiled, pleased at how well they were getting along.

"Harry, I just spoke with Dumbledore; he said if you could be back here at noon tomorrow, he would speak with you about possibly attending Hogwarts. And if you'd like, you're more than welcome to stay with us tonight. Then tomorrow, we can all come back here."

"Thanks Mr. Weasley, but I really should be getting back." Harry scratched his head a little awkwardly, "I told the others I'd be home tonight, and they sort of look up to me, see?"

Mr. Weasley didn't answer. He was staring at Harry's forehead.

"Er…Mr. Weasley?"

Ron frowned. "Dad? What is it?"

"Harry…Harry, what's your last name?" Mr. Weasley asked quietly.

Mrs. Weasley gasped and her hand flew to cover her mouth. Confused, Harry looked around her, and then at the rest. They were all looking at him with wide eyes.

"It – it's Potter. Why?"

Mrs. Weasley gave a little moan and Ron looked shell-shocked. Mr. Weasley took a deep breath before slowly letting it out.

"Harry, how much did they tell you about our world?" Mr. Weasley finally asked, gesturing towards the others.

"Quite a bit I suppose."

"Anything political?"

"Well, no. It didn't really come up. Why?"

Mr. Weasley was slowly shaking his head. "I didn't think I'd be the one to tell you this…do you know how your parents died?"

"My aunt told me it was a car crash when I was one. They died and I got this." He lifted his bangs and showed him the scar that had been there for as long as he could remember. Everyone craned around to see, and Harry covered it up again, unnerved by the reaction.

"No, that's not what happened." Again, Mr. Weasley sighed and looked at his wife, as if for moral support, before turning back to Harry. "You and your parents were attacked. There's a wizard out there, right now; calls himself Voldemort. No one knows why, but Halloween 1981, he attacked your house. He killed your parents, both of whom died fighting, but when he tried to kill you the curse rebounded on him. No one knows why, but somehow he couldn't kill you. However, the curse didn't kill him either. For a while, a lot of people thought he was dead. He disappeared that night and you became a hero. Then you disappeared too. I still remember the headlines. When the news came out that you were gone, rumors started flying. People thought you'd been killed, abducted, run away; some even thought Voldemort himself had come back and adopted you as his own son. Then, things started happening. People began to see your disappearance as a bad omen of sorts. They thought your presence had kept them safe and once you were gone, that protection was gone as well. About 2 months after you left your aunt and uncle's, a man named Sirius Black escaped Azkaban, the wizard prison. Black was a follower of Voldemort and was charged with the murder of thirteen muggles in the week after you defeated him. So obviously, people were in a panic, a mass murderer was out in the open - and one of Voldemort's most loyal supporters to boot. Then everyone's worst fear was realized. About three years ago, Voldemort returned. Since then, the war's started back up. There are attacks every few weeks. The Ministry aurors are doing what they can, but no one knows who to trust. Dumbledore called together the Order of the Phoenix, a secret group that was formed during the first war to fight Voldemort. He's re-formed it and we've been doing everything we can as well. And that's where we are today: a war on our doorsteps with no end in sight."

Harry sat, stunned. The Dursleys had lied about everything. They hadn't told him about magic, they lied about his parents – his parents! They had died to protect him. A feeling of pride started to rise in him, only to quashed back down by the thought of Voldemort. This man, who had taken everything from Harry, was alive again and was wreaking havoc.

"How can I help?"

"What?" Whatever Mr. Weasley had expected to hear, it wasn't that.

Harry glared fiercely. "I want to help take him down. What can I do?"

"Harry, you're not only underage, but you haven't had any sort of magical training whatsoever."

"Then I'll get some. When Dumbledore meets me tomorrow, I'll ask him. I'll study; I'll do what I need. But I want to help fight."

"Well…you'll have to talk to Dumbledore about that. As for tonight, why don't you come back to the Burrow with us? If anyone discovers where you are, Voldemort will go after you. You can't risk that."

Harry frowned. "I've survived this long; I think I'll be okay for one more night."

"Harry, maybe you should. Just for tonight." Ginny had been silent throughout her father's speech, but now spoke up. She looked so worried that Harry almost gave in, just to stop her frowning.

"Ginny, I can't. I _have_ to go back. I promised the boys I would." He stood up and pushed his chair back. Mr. Weasley immediately stood, as though to try and stop him; the others hesitated, half-rising from their seats. "I'll meet you all here, tomorrow at noon."

He gave a short wave, turned on the spot, and disappeared with a crack. A stunned silence echoed in his wake. Finally, Ron spoke.

"Did he just diapparate?"

* * *

><p>Harry reappeared outside the warehouse. Head down, he didn't notice Ralph sitting against the doorway until he stood up.<p>

"You were gone a long time."

Harry looked up. "Oh. Yeah, sorry."

"…so?" Ralph looked at him expectantly. Harry was confused.

"So…what?"

"So, what was that place?"

"Oh. Oh, it was…just a pub. Nothing spectacular." Harry shrugged. "Look, I'm dead tired, I'll see you tomorrow."

He clapped him on the shoulder and walked past him. He hadn't gone five steps through the door when Ralph called after him.

"It was Diagon Alley, wasn't it?"

Harry stopped. He turned around, slowly. "H-how did –"

"How did I know?" Ralph walked inside, ducking under the low doorframe. "I never told you why I ran away, did I?"

Harry shook his head. _What the fuck?_ That seemed to be his thought of the day. Ralph's eyes tightened. A big black dog padded towards them from around the corner just then. Ollie had found him years ago and begged Harry to let them keep him. Now, Sifu Dog, as Ollie had dubbed him, was part of their little family. Ralph crouched down to pet him, taking comfort in the animal. Harry joined him a moment later and waited for him to start. After a moment, he did.

"My older brother was perfect. My parents loved him - he was brilliant, good at everything he did. He was doing accidental magic from the time he was born. When he turned eleven, his letter came and mum and dad couldn't have been happier. When he was twelve, I was born. They all kept waiting for me to be the same…but I never did any magic. Not even the slightest bit. My brother would come home from school and tease me, saying I'd never get my letter. Finally, when I was eight, mum couldn't stand it and wrote to Hogwarts, asking if my name was on the list. When the reply came, it just confirmed what everyone already knew. I was a squib, through and through. Mum and dad couldn't even look at me...so I left." Ralph sighed, drawing in the dirt next to him. Harry watched him carefully, not sure what to say. Finally Ralph looked up at Harry.

"When I saw what you could do…at first I was jealous, but then I realized what a good thing it was. You didn't know what it was, so you wouldn't leave to go to Hogwarts. Rather, your talents could help us. It was selfish I know, and I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but I was right wasn't I? You're going to go to Hogwarts now, aren't you?"

Harry was torn between being angry that Ralph had kept something like this from him and understanding why he had.

"I'm sure yet. I'm meeting with Dumbledore tomorrow."

Ralph frowned. "He'll let you in. I've heard he's really nice. He'll let you in and you'll leave. You'll leave us, just like I said you would."

"Look Ralph, it's not like that. I have an opportunity to learn how to use magic. I have to learn this!"

"Even if it means abandoning us? What about Sam and Eric? Jake, Roger? Ollie? What about him? Are you just going leave him alone?"

"He won't be alone; he'll have you and all the others. I'll be back in the summers. I'm not abandoning you."

Sifu whined, looking from one boy to the other.

"Hush, Sifu. Look, you don't really need me anyway. The boys look up to you as much as me. You can make money playing dice. You'll get by, just like always."

"It's not about the money, Harry." Ralph sighed, looking defeated. "I know you're not abandoning us. It just feels that way."

Harry opened his mouth, but Ralph just said "Goodnight," and left him sitting there.

Harry looked down at Sifu. "_You_ know I'll come back, right?"

Sifu wagged his tail once and laid his head on Harry's lap.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **I'm at work, it's now 2:00, and I just spent the whole day writing this chapter! I'm already thinking of going back to the first two chapters and making some edits (now that I have some idea of the direction this story may take), but they can wait.

Another thing, if some of the things Harry does in this story (i.e. the wandless, nonverbal magic) seems a little too much, please just go with it. I'll try to not make him too powerful (I played with the idea of having him be ridiculously powerful…but that was when this was going to just be a bunch of nonsense), but he will be able to do things the canon Harry can't do.

Food for thought:

Summer classes suck

Madeleine Peyroux's music is very nice for a rainy day.


	4. Of Goblins and Whomping Willows

**Disclaimer:** I don't suppose you'd believe me if I said all this was mine? No, didn't think so. Alright then, it's J.K.'s...

**A/N:** So I wrote this over the course of a few days, during which I got a little stumped. I tried to push through, but I'm afraid the quality wasn't quite up to par. Anyway, I'm sure you've noticed, but I like to steal names; I did it in the first two chapters (quite a few times) and I've done it again here. See if you can spot where :)

* * *

><p><strong>Cheap Red Wine<strong>

**Chapter 4: Of Goblins and Whomping Willows**

Albus Dumbledore attracted quite a bit of attention when he stepped out of the fireplace at the Leaky Cauldron in Diagon Alley. Ignoring the stares, he walked up to Tom, an old friend and current barman at the establishment, and ordered a piping hot mug of cider, despite the hot weather outside. After accepting his drink from Tom, Dumbledore made his way to private room in back. He was the first to arrive, so he drew up a chair and settled him self to wait. Just as he was lifting his cider to his mouth, the door opened, and Dumbledore leapt to his feet. Arthur Weasley entered and Dumbledore sat back down in disappointment.

"Good afternoon Arthur," Dumbledore said, inclining his head.

"Afternoon Albus," Arthur replied, smiling a little. Dumbledore never ceased to amuse him, what with his eccentric style of clothing and mannerisms.

"Are you sure he'll come, Arthur?"

"He said he would..." Arthur trailed off as the handle of the door slowly turned.

Dumbledore watched the door with baited breath as the door opened and a young man entered. His first thought was that James Potter had somehow cheated death and he was, against all odds, about to have a conversation with him. However, at second glance, he noticed subtle differences - a longer nose, thinner face, lankier limbs. The most obvious difference was, of course, the boy's eyes – despite hiding behind thinly framed glasses, Dumbledore could easily tell they were bright green, just like Lily's. As Harry came fully into the room, Dumbledore took note of the ragged clothes he was wearing – they were patched in multiple places and were hanging off his wiry frame. He frowned at the thought of Harry living in the streets of London, but quickly dispelled the guilt-inducing notion.

"Harry, good afternoon," Dumbledore said, standing. "Please, take a seat."

Harry walked over to the chair offered by Mr. Weasley and sat down.

"My name is Albus Dumbledore, Harry. I'm the Headmaster at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"Nice to meet you sir," Harry said and shook Dumbledore's hand. The man himself was such a mixture of clichés and conundrums, Harry didn't know quite what to make of him. He was wearing long purple robes that were open and held with a belt. His very long white beard was tucked into said belt and he had half-moon spectacles behind which bright blue eyes seemed to twinkle. The man had to be at least a hundred, and yet he still seemed so…sprightly.

"Arthur here has brought it to my attention that you would like to attend my school. Is this so?" he asked, peering over his half-moons.

"Yes sir. I know I'd be behind, but I'm okay with that." Harry suddenly felt as though he'd been dunked in ice. What if this man wasn't as nice as he looked and wouldn't let him in? What if he just laughed in his face…Dumbledore looked like the kind of person who laughed often...

"Very well Mr. Potter. As long as you understand that you will have to work extra hard to keep up, I don't see a problem with your attendance. We will put you on an expedited course and, with luck, you will be able to complete Hogwarts with the rest of your age group. I will speak with the rest of the professors and have them write up a curriculum. But I warn you, it will not be easy. You will be expected to pass the end of year exams for each grade and, if you are able at that time, you will sit for the O.W.L.s with everyone else in June. You will arrive with the rest of the school on September 1, on the Hogwarts Express. I shall owl you in a few days with instructions on how to get there, along with your book list, so you can be sufficiently prepared. Is this acceptable?"

Harry hesitated. He was sure the books would be rather expensive, but he didn't want to sound like he was complaining, so he just said, "Yes, sir. Thank you."

"Very good. On to our next order of business."

Harry frowned slightly. He didn't know they would be addressing more than one "order of business" today. He hoped Dumbledore wasn't going to insist he live with the Weasleys until the first of September - maybe that was why Mr. Weasley was there. However, Dumbledore surprised him.

"I'm sure you're concerned about the money." Dumbledore said knowingly.

_How the hell did he know?_ Maybe Harry would learn to read minds at Hogwarts.

"Please do not. I trust that you will not abuse this knowledge, but your parents did not leave you without. You will have access to your family vault at Gringotts. There is plenty of gold there to keep you supplied during your tenure at Hogwarts." Dumbledore gestured to Mr. Weasley. "Arthur will take you there and show you what to do. Oh, I almost forgot.; here, you will need this."

He held out a plain leather drawstring bag. Harry took it silently.

"It has an extension charm on it, so you will be able to fit all you need in it." Dumbledore said in answer to the unasked question.

Harry was shocked. "Thanks you, sir," he managed to say.

Dumbledore smiled and inclined his head, and stood.

"Well, if you don't have any questions - ," he raised his eyebrows. Harry shook his head, and he continued. "– if you don't have any questions, then I'll be off. I have things I must attend to. Arthur, we'll be in touch." He smiled at them and left, his robes swishing behind him.

Harry looked at Mr. Weasley with wide eyes, still a little in shock. Mr. Weasley chuckled.

"Dumbledore has that effect on a lot of people," he said, enjoying Harry's reaction. "Shall we be off then? I was thinking we could go be Ollivander's after Gringotts and you can get your wand."

Harry immediately straightened. "Right. Money, wand."

Mr. Weasely laughed. "Good to see you have your priorities in order."

Harry smiled and shrugged unabashedly.

They left The Leaky Cauldron and Harry followed Mr. Weasley to Gringotts. They stopped at an impressive white building with giant pillars and steps leading to the large entryway. As Harry read the inscription on the doors, he squirmed a little uncomfortably.

"_Enter, stranger, but take heed  
>Of what awaits the sin of greed<br>For those who take, but do not earn,  
>Must pay most dearly in their turn.<br>So if you seek beneath our floors  
>A treasure that was never yours,<br>Thief, you have been warned, beware  
>Of finding more than treasure there.<em>"

It didn't exactly reassure him, given his habit of taking things that didn't belong to him. When they entered the main lobby, Harry noticed teller stations all along the edge of the room and at the very back was another doorway. It opened and Harry watched as a young couple came out, looking rather queasy and green in the face. The man suddenly put a hand to his mouth and ran past. Harry frowned and turned to Mr. Weasley, who had approached on of the teller stations.

"Er, Mr. Weasley, what exactly…" his question died on his lips as he got his first look at a goblin. Though quite short, the goblin had a normal-sized head and a long, hooked nose. He clutched a few gold pieces possessively as he eyed Harry and Mr. Weasley.

"How can I help you?"

"We would like to visit Vault number 687." Mr. Weasley said.

"Key please," the goblin said, holding out a long-fingered hand expectantly.

"Oh yes," Mr. Weasley gave a little jump and began searching his pockets. "Now where did I put it…here!" he produced a small key and handed it over.

"This way," the goblin said. He jumped down from his seat and led them over to the back doorway. Their shoes clacked as they followed.

Behind the door was a dark cavern with nothing in sight, but a small wooden cart. Harry climbed in behind Mr. Weasley rather hesitantly, and as soon as they were seated, the cart shot off. His hair whipped behind him as he peered over the side – there was nothing but blackness beneath them.

"Please keep all limbs inside the cart if you don't want them torn off," the goblin called back.

Unable to tell if he was joking or not, Harry sat back down on the off chance that he wasn't. Just as his head cleared the side, a rock wall whipped into view, so close it scraped the edge of the cart. A piece of rock flew in and hit Harry in the face. _Well that answers that question,_ he thought wryly.

They slowed to a stop and Harry and Mr. Weasley climbed out.

"Quite a ride, eh?" Mr. Weasley asked, grinning at Harry's windswept hair and flushed face.

"Quite," Harry replied. He wasn't sure he was too fond of the transportation method of Gringotts.

The goblin opened the vault and got back into the cart.

"Take as long as you need."

"I'll erm, wait out here Harry," Mr. Weasley said.

Harry nodded and stepped into the vault. His jaw dropped. There were mounds of gold heaped up; piles of silver intermingled; and small stacks of copper in the very front. Harry took out the small leather bag and started scooping galleons, sickles and knuts into it. When he had a proper amount, he joined Mr. Weasley back in the cart.

After a wild ride back to the top, Mr. Weasely and Harry left Gringotts.

"Well Harry, how about Ollivander's then?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"You really don't have to come, Mr. Weasely," Harry said. "I appreciate it and everything, but if you want to go home…"

"Nonsense Harry!" Mr. Weasley clapped him on the shoulder. "Let's go get you a wand."

The bell rang as the door creaked open and they entered the wand shop. Harry's first impression was that of a haunted house. There were cobwebs everywhere and even the front desk had an unused air about it. The walls were covered in shelves, all holding long, thin dusty boxes. Harry turned to look at the front display, which held an impressive-looking wand resting on a silk pillow (dusty), and when he turned back, there was an elderly man standing in front of him.

"Aah!" Harry jumped back and nearly tripped.

"Mr. Potter," the man said in a breathy voice. "I've been wondering if I would ever see you in here."

Harry didn't really know what to say, so he settled for, "Er…yes."

"Yes indeed," Ollivander replied. "Which arm do you use?"

"Both of them," Harry automatically responded.

"Ah, ambidextrous?" Ollivander looked rather impressed.

"Oh…no, I mean, I use my right." Harry flushed a little as Ollivander frowned slightly and gave a disappointed sound.

"Ah well…" he shrugged. "It is a rather rare trait."

Ollivander then took out a measuring tape, tapped it with his wand, and it proceeded to take measurements of Harry's arms, his legs, his fingers, his face…just as Harry was about to ask whether he wanted to measure his real wand, Ollivander apparently made a decision because he waved his wand and the measuring tape rolled itself up and zoomed back behind the counter. He disappeared to the back for a moment and reappeared with a box.

"Ash, twelve inches, rather springy," he said, opening the box. "Go on then, try it."

Harry took the proffered wand and waved it around. Ollivander snatched it back immediately.

"No, no that's all wrong," he muttered.

Again, he went to the back and this time returned holding a plethora of boxes and levitating still more in front of him. He had Harry try a 13-inch yew, a 10-inch holly, a 9-inch oak…none of them worked. Finally, as the sun was starting to bathe the shop in a soft golden light, Mr. Ollivander stopped in the middle of taking a wand out of its box.

"Of course…" his eyes darted to Harry's forehead. "Yes…"

He went to the back for the third time. Harry looked at Mr. Weasley in confusion, but Mr. Weasley just shrugged. Mr. Ollivander came back, holding only one box. He took the wand out of the box and, after hesitating for the briefest of moments, handed it to Harry.

"Holly, 11 inches…phoenix feather core," Ollivander said quietly.

Harry took it and immediately knew he had found his wand. Warmth spread down to his fingertips and a shower of sparks flew from the end. Though slightly disturbed at the display, he felt a weary relief. Mr. Ollivander took the wand, placed it carefully in the box and as Harry was paying for it, he glanced sharply at him.

"This wand, Mr. Potter…the phoenix who gave the feather that is in this wand, gave just one other, exactly the same. It's very curious that you should have this one, when its brother gave you that scar."

"You mean…Voldemort's wand and my wand…they have the same core?" Harry asked uneasily.

Ollivander nodded solemnly. "You are destined for great things, Mr. Potter."

"Right…" Harry took the box containing his wand. "Well, thanks."

Harry and Mr. Weasley left the shop and headed back towards the Leaky Cauldron.

"Don't let him bother you, Harry. Mr. Ollivander is just a creepy sort of fellow," Mr. Weasley said.

Harry nodded, but didn't reply.

"Well, here we are," Mr. Weasley looked at Harry and hesitated before continuing. "Are you sure you don't want to stay with us until September 1st?"

"I'm sure. Thank you anyway, Mr. Weasley," Harry said. "And thanks again for coming today."

"Of course, Harry. Good luck and I'm sure I'll see you at the platform."

With that, Mr. Weasley turned and disapparated with a crack. Harry gave a last once-over of Diagon Alley before doing the same.

* * *

><p>A few days later, an owl arrived bearing a letter for Harry. While the boys pet the bird and fed it bits of their lunch, Harry opened the letter. Inside was the list of books promised by Professor Dumbledore and a note telling him how to get to Platform 9 ¾ on the first of September. While he was reading the part about walking through a wall and wondering if perhaps Dumbledore was, in fact, a bit mad, Ralph grabbed the book list.<p>

"Damn that's a lot of books."

Harry glanced over. "Yeah, but I'm also supposed to be covering five years in one."

"Hmm…yeah, good luck with that one."

Sifu bounded up at that moment, effectively scaring the owl away to the disappointment of the others. One by one, they drifted back to what they had been doing before and Sifu padded over to Ralph and Harry.

"You dumb dog," Harry said, scratching behind Sifu's ears. "If you're not careful, they'll have me turn you out into the street."

Sifu whined and shook his head. Despite what Harry said, sometimes he swore Sifu could understand him. Returning his attention to the letter, he saw Ralph had picked it up and was perusing it.

"I remember going to King's Cross with my parents to see off my brother," he said, not looking up from the letter.

Harry watched him for a moment, before making a decision.

"Ralph, I need to tell you something."

Ralph and Sifu cocked their heads to the side in almost exact synchronization. Harry almost laughed, but fought the urge.

"Have you heard of Voldemort, Ralph?"

* * *

><p>Half an hour later, Ralph sat in stunned silence.<p>

"So…you're saying this psycho mass murderer is after you?" he asked.

Harry nodded. "Seems like it. Apparently no one even knows I'm alive, but once I go to Hogwarts and it comes out, Mr. Weasley reckons he'll want to finish me off."

Ralph stared at Harry for a moment.

"Mate, that's…I dunno. Are you sure you want to go?"

"Have you been listening? That's the only way I'll learn real magic and the only way I'll be able to help fight him." Harry said. "He murdered my parents, Ralph."

"I know, I know, it's just…and what about that Sirius Black fellow? A deranged lunatic who escaped – OW!" he exclaimed. "Sifu, what the fuck?"

Sifu had just nipped Ralph on the arm.

"You gormless dog, what'd you do that for?" he asked angrily, rubbing his arm where a small red mark was forming. Sifu just put his head in Harry's lap in response. Shaking his head, Ralph continued.

"Look, all I'm saying is be careful. You seem to have more enemies than the average bloke, and it'll only get worse."

"Ralph, I'll be fine. I'll learn some stuff, go kick Voldemort's arse, then come back here and make you all go to school and get jobs and live like civilized folk. Who knows? Maybe I'll even make Sam and Eric take a bath."

Ralph laughed and socked Harry in the arm playfully. "No way, it'll take more than a magic wand to get them clean. And you _know_ it'll take more than that to civilize me!"

Soon the two boys were laughing and wrestling in the dirt, Sifu barking on the sidelines, as though cheering them on.

* * *

><p>Before Harry knew it, September 1st had arrived and with it, sad goodbyes from the boys.<p>

"Will you be back?" Ollie asked, trying to hold back tears. Harry knelt down in front of him.

"Hey, of course I will. After all, how else are you going to learn to be a super-ninja? I have to come back to teach you that." Ollie looked at him hopefully.

"Really? You promise you'll teach me?"

"I swear it." Harry said solemnly. Ollie smiled a little and wiped his arm across his nose. "But you have to practice while I'm away. Got it?"

Ollie nodded enthusiastically.

"Good." Harry ruffled his hair and stood back up. He looked at the rest of the boys, all of whom were watching him with forlorn expressions. Finally his eyes rested on Ralph. Ralph rolled his eyes a little and shrugged as if to say, _Go. You know they'll be fine an hour after you leave._ Harry saluted them, but before he could leave, Sifu bounded up to him and gave him a slobbering kiss on the face. Ollie gave a little smile.

"Ugh Sifu, down!" Harry pushed him off and wiped his face. He glared at him, but reached down to scratch behind his ears anyway. "Yeah, I'll miss you too, you dumb dog." Sifu sat and wagged his tail. Harry shook his head, gave one last wave, and disapparated with a _crack_.

When he opened his eyes again, it was to a smoky platform and the sound of a train whistle. Everywhere he looked, he saw parents tearfully hugging their embarrassed children. One elderly woman was straightening her grandson's robes saying,

"You remembered everything, right? You didn't forget Trevor again, did you?"

Wondering who or what Trevor was, Harry shouldered his old knapsack and made his way to the train. As he did, he wondered again about the boys. He had left them some money that he had exchanged from his Gringotts account and he knew Ralph would ration it carefully to last them at least until Christmas. He shook himself. _They'll be fine, stop worrying._ He was pulled out of his thoughts by the Weasleys making their way onto the platform. He saw Mrs. Weasley hugging Ginny goodbye as Ron spotted him.

"Harry! Hey, Harry over here!"

Harry grinned and walked over to them. "Hey Ron."

Mrs. Weasley gave him a warm smile and, to Harry's surprise, hugged him. He froze for a moment, not used to such motherly attentions, before gently hugging her back.

"Now you take care of yourself, hear?" she said sternly, letting him go. "And I mean _all_ of you." Here, she glared over at Fred and George. "It's your last year, you two. If I get any more letters saying you're in detention, _again_, I'll…well, I'll do something and you won't like it!"

Fred and George just smiled at her innocently. "Who, us?"

"Mum, you know –"

"- we would never –"

"- _ever_ do anything to –"

"- upset you."

Mrs. Weasley just sighed in defeat. The train gave another whistle and started moving.

"Oh! Hurry now, you'll miss the train!" she cried.

They rushed to the train, hopped on, and the Weasleys waved out the windows. Fred and George left, whispering something to do with toilets and shrinking charms. Harry grinned, wondering at the sort of trouble they must get in to.

"Hey Harry, d'you want to sit with us?" Ron asked, gesturing towards the back of the train. Ginny stood behind him, watching expectantly.

"Er, sure. Thanks," Harry said. The three of them made their way to the last compartment where Dean and a girl Harry didn't know were already sitting.

"Harry, this is Luna Lovegood," Ginny said. "Luna, Harry Potter."

Luna Lovegood was perhaps the strangest looking girl Harry had ever seen. She had blonde, almost white hair, and very large eyes. She had been reading a magazine, but when she moved it, Harry noticed she wore a necklace made of bottle caps and…were those radish earrings?

"Hello Harry Potter," she said absentmindedly. "It's very nice to meet you."

"Erm, yeah. Good to meet you too." Harry said, a little disconcerted.

Ron threw himself in the seat next to Dean, leaving Harry to squeeze in next to Ginny.

"Merlin, I can't wait until the feast. I'm starved," Ron complained, as his stomach gave an appropriate growl.

"You're always hungry," Dean laughed.

As Ron and Dean discussed the feast and Ron began listing everything he was going to eat at it, Harry turned to Ginny.

"So how was your summer?"

"Oh, it was fine," she said. "You know, finished up homework, de-gnomed the garden, played some pick-up Quidditch."

Harry didn't know, so he settled with an, "Ah...sounds like fun?"

"Yeah, it was for the most part." Ginny smiled at him and Harry's stomach gave a little flip-flop. "How was yours?"

Harry shrugged. "It was alright I guess. The boys were a little upset at me leaving, but they'll get over it quick enough."

And so went the rest of the train ride. Harry found out that Ginny had two other brothers, both of whom had already left Hogwarts. Bill was working as a curse-breaker for Gringotts and Charlie worked with dragons in Romania. Just as Ginny was describing their home, the Burrow (which sounded incredible, to Harry's mind), a voice came echoing through the corridor.

"We will be arriving at Hogwarts in five minutes time. If you have not changed into your school robes, please do so at this time."

The girls left to find an empty compartment to change, as the boys pulled out their robes. Harry reached into his leather bag Dumbledore had given him and, after shifting through the multitude of books, finally grasped the edge of his robe. They quickly changed and went out into the corridor as the trained came to a stop. They filed behind the rest of the students and stepped out into the chilly night air. Harry rubbed his arms a little for warmth and suddenly a loud voice called,

"Firs' years this way! Firs' years over here!"

Following the voice, Harry saw the biggest man he'd ever seen before in his life. Twice the size of a normal human, he had a great scraggly beard and wild hair.

"That's Hagrid." Harry turned to find Ron grinning at him. "Hey Hagrid!"

Hagrid turned and waved.

"C'mon, let's go." Ron led the way to a line of horseless carriages. He climbed in one, followed by Dean, Harry, and the boy Harry had seen on the platform with his grandmother. Ron introduced them.

"Harry, this is Neville Longbottom. Neville, Harry Potter."

Neville's eyes grew wide. "_You're_ Harry Potter! I thought you were dead!"

Harry gave an uncomfortable chuckle and rubbed the back of his neck. "Heh, surprise! Not dead…"

"Right, sorry, I didn't mean to…" Neville trailed off uncertainly.

"It's alright, no worries," Harry said. Neville sat back looking relieved.

"So Neville, how was your summer?" Dean asked. As Neville started telling them how his grandmother had hounded him about the upcoming O.W.L.s ("It was a nightmare – she had me studying all summer long!"), Harry looked out the window, excitement bubbling up inside him. He was really going to Hogwarts! He was going to learn magic! He grinned. Suddenly they left the woods and entered into an open field. As the carriage turned, Harry caught his first sight of Hogwarts. His jaw nearly dropped. It was incredible. The castle itself was bigger than any building Harry had ever seen. There were towers and turrets, a large arched doorway at the front, and a great expanse of grounds surrounded by a forest. There was a great lake off to the side and Harry caught sight of a bunch of small boats slowly making their way across. The carriage came to a sudden halt and Harry clambered out. He followed Ron, Dean, and Neville inside as they joined with the other students. He saw Ginny walking with Luna, chatting amiably, and the Weasley twins conversing with a tall boy with dreadlocks. He looked up in awe as they entered the Great Hall. The ceiling had been enchanted to look like the night sky and the full moon was reflecting brightly. Candles floated above each of the four long tables, and at the very back of the hall, the staff table stood on a raised dais. Professor Dumbledore sat at the very center and it seemed to Harry that he was looking right at him. He followed Ron to the table on the very edge and sat next to him. Ron looked at him strangely.

"Harry…have you already been sorted?"

"Come again?" Harry asked. _Sorted? Sorted how?_

"You know, your house. D'you know which house you're in?"

Oh. That sorted. Shit. Harry groaned, "No. Dumbledore never said."

"Oh…well, maybe you can ask him after the feast." Ron said. "For now, just stay here I guess."

Harry nodded. That sounded like a good idea to him. All talking ceased as the doors opened. A stern looking woman strode in leading a line of scared-looking first years. They shuffled close to one another, one girl even holding the back of the robes of the girl in front of her.

"That's Professor McGonagall," Ron whispered. "Don't cross her. She's fair, but pretty strict."

Harry took note. Once they got to the front of the Great Hall, Professor McGonagall waved her wand and a three-legged stool and an old patched hat flew towards her before settling in front of the staff table. The entire hall was silent with anticipation. Harry was confused.

"What-"

"Shh," Ron cut him off. "Watch."

Harry turned back around and watched as the hat opened its brim like a mouth and began to sing. _Should I really be surprised?_ Harry thought with amused exasperation.

Once it was finished, Professor McGonagall opened the scroll she was holding and began calling out names.

"Atkins, Jenna."

A small girl strode confidently up to the stool and put the hat on. It was so big, it covered her eyes. She sat primly for a moment with her hands folded neatly in front of her before,

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The table Harry was sitting at started clapping and little Jenna hopped off the stool, replaced the hat and skipped over with a broad grin on her face.

"Arriaga, Lee."

A rather mousy-looking boy shuffled forward.

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Edison, Tom."

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Fern, Mira."

A little blonde girl stepped forward.

"SLYTHERIN!"

And so it went until Vaughn, Carrie became a Gryffindor. However, instead of collecting the sorting hat and stool, Professor McGonagall cleared her throat nervously.

"Though it is rather unusual, we have a fifth-year joining us. Would Harry Potter please come up?"

Whispers broke out immediately and heads turned, all looking for Harry.

"Did she say Potter?"

"_Harry_ Potter? _The _Harry Potter?"

He stood up and walked up to the front, trying not to look around. When he reached Professor McGonagall, she gestured towards the stool and hat. Face burning with embarrassment, he sat down and put on the hat. It didn't come quite as low, so he was able to see all the faces looking at him with expressions varying from awe to amusement at his situation.

_Ah, Harry Potter_. A small voice spoke in his ear. _Where to put you?_ He realized the sorting hat was speaking to him.

_Well that's not a little disturbing,_ he thought.

_It would be significantly more disturbing if I announced you unsortable._

_Sorry._ Harry gulped.

_Now. You're a natural born leader – others look up to you. Quite intelligent, but not the studious type…no Ravenclaw would not do. You strive to prove yourself. You are ambitious – already making plans to defeat the Dark Lord...perhaps his own house, Slytherin would be appropriate. And yet, you are loyal and brave…which house would suit you?_

_Not Slytherin, please not Slytherin. _Harry thought. He already shared a wand core with Voldemort; he didn't want to have to share a house as well.

_No? Well then, how about –_

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry sighed with relief, removed the hat, and quickly made his way back over to sit next to Ron. He didn't even realize that the Gryffindor table was making the loudest cheer of the night, the twins whistling above all the noise. Ron grinned at him as he sat down.

"Brilliant, mate!" Ron said.

Food appeared on the table and Ron immediately began loading his plate.

"I can't believe they made me go in front of the whole school to do that!" Harry groaned.

"Ah, we've all done it," Ron replied, taking a bite out of a chicken leg.

"Yeah, but you were eleven. I'm fifteen," Harry said. He searched around for a piece of steak before spotting the platter in front of Ginny. "It's a little different. Hey, Ginny, will you pass the steak?"

Ginny nodded and handed it over before returning to her conversation with the boy next to her.

"Wellalesyugosrtd," Ron said through a full mouth.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Eh?"

Ron swallowed thickly before saying more clearly, "Well at least you got sorted. It's better than not knowing, right?"

Harry supposed he was right. It did make for a more relaxing dinner, knowing he would be in the same house as his new friends.

Once the feast was over and the food all cleared from the tables, Dumbledore stood.

"And now if I can have your attention for the start of term announcements. Mr. Filch has asked me to add portable swamps, fanged Frisbees, and any Weasley products to the list of banned items." His eyes twinkled in Fred and George's direction before continuing. "It has also come to my attention that a certain number of students have been sneaking onto the grounds at night to try and touch the Whomping Willow. I ask you all to remember that it has that name for a reason, and unless you want to end up in the hospital wing regrowing bones, I suggest you stay away from it."

A few people laughed while a few others looked at each other guiltily. Harry wasn't sure if he was joking or not.

"Regrowing bones?" he asked Ron.

Ron leaned over and whispered, "Yeah, SkeleGro – it regrows bones."

Before Harry could respond, Dumbledore continued his speech.

"On a more serious note – Lord Voldemort is growing in his power. I ask that everyone remain cautious and to follow all school rules. Do not wander around after curfew and remember, the Forbidden Forest is _forbidden_. These rules are for your safety." He looked at the student body, all trace of a twinkle gone. "Thank you and good night."

The students immediately stood up and began chattering once again.

"That's a cheerful way to end a speech," Dean said. "Oh by the way, Lord Voldemort may try to sneak in the school to murder you, so stay in bed at night."

Ron snorted. "Yeah, it is sort of morbid. But the thing is, it's true, you know? Voldemort's been gaining power steadily ever since he came back."

"I can't wait to graduate," Dean said. "I'm going to be an auror and hopefully help bring him down."

Ron nodded fervently.

"What's an auror," Harry asked.

"Dark wizard catcher," Ron answered.

_Hm…doesn't sound like a bad career_, Harry mused.

"Mr. Potter."

Harry turned around to see Dumbledore standing by the entrance to the Great Hall.

"Yes sir?"

"Would you mind joining me in my office for a moment? I'd like a word," Dumbledore said.

Harry looked at Ron and Dean, who shrugged.

"Oh. O-okay, sure," he said.

"We'll see you later," Ron said. Harry turned and waved before following Dumbledore.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** So I really wanted Harry to compare Dumbledore to the wizard in Fantasia, but I knew Harry would likely have not been exposed to the movie, what with the Dursleys being so anti-magic (highly doubt they'd let their precious Dudders watch that awful movie!), and I find it hard to believe that he'd manage watch it while living on the streets…

On another note, I really feel for J.K. Rowling. After typing "Mr. Weasley" countless times, I finally just copied it so I could "Ctrl-v" it wherever it was needed. I also typed Pooter instead of Potter almost every single time...it got to the point where I was tempted to just leave it.

Song of the Day: Words, Words, Words by Bo Burnham


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